When Writing About Oneself, One Must Strive

The Writer Walks Out Of His Workroom In A Daze. He Wants A Drink. He Needs It. It Happens To Be A Fact That Nearly Every Writer Of Fiction In The World Drinks More Whisky Than Is Good For Him. He Does It To Give Himself Faith Hope And Courage. A Person Is A Fool To Become A Writer. His Only Compensation Is Absolute Freedom. He Has No Master Except His Own Soul And That I Am Sure Is Why He Does It.

If You Have Good Thoughts They Will Shine Out Of Your Face Like Sunbeams And You Will Always Look Lovely.

Both Matilda And Lavender Were Enthralled. It Was Quite Clear To Them That They Were At This Moment Standing In The Presence Of A Master. Here Was Somebody Who Had Brought The Art Of Skulduggery To The Highest Point Of Perfection, Somebody, Moreover, Who Was Willing To Risk Life And Limb In Pursuit Of Her Calling. They Gazed In Wonder At This Goddess, And Suddenly Even The Boil On Her Nose Was No Longer A Blemish But A Badge Of Courage.

The Books Transported Her Into New Worlds And Introduced Her To Amazing People Who Lived Exciting Lives. She Went On Olden-day Sailing Ships With Joseph Conrad. She Went To Africa With Ernest Hemingway And To India With Rudyard Kipling. She Travelled All Over The World While Sitting In Her Little Room In An English Village.

I Want An Oompa-loompa!' Screamed Veruca.